


The Group Decisions Of A Friday Night

by gala_apples



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Career, Betting, Blow Jobs, Circle Jerk, Drunk Sex, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, M/M, Open Relationships, pizza delivery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Being in a large group of drunken idiots can be enabling. Objectively terrible ideas, like blowjob competitions, seem safer with numbers.
Relationships: Bruce Greene/Adam Kovic/Matt Peake/Sean Poole/Joel Rubin/Lawrence Sonntag/Elyse/James Willems, Elyse Willems/James Willems
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	The Group Decisions Of A Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the domestic service prompt for seasonofkink. I don't think I've ever written a service industry kink before. Fun!

Elyse stands in the living room twirling the magenta cord connecting the receiver to the rest of her sweet 80’s retro phone for at least eight rings before she hangs up. She presses the seven numbers one more time, this time carefully watching her fingers to make sure they land on the correct sequence. Bruce’s still not answering his phone, so she hangs up again and texts **bitch** on her cell before heading to the kitchen to grab a two litre of Pepsi from the fridge.

Halfway down the hallway Elyse can hear the snores. It doesn’t surprise her in the least that James fell back asleep. It is, after all, only noon, and he had a night shift. That doesn’t mean she has to show any compassion and let sleeping dogs lie, which isn’t even what it sounds like -fuck, she loves puppers- it’s actually a stupid metaphor. Metaphors and similes are practically the only thing she remembers from junior high English. She tromps down the hall, a cold hearted bitch with elephant feet, but it’s not enough to wake James up. That only means one thing: escalate.

She and James don’t share a bedroom. Two bedroom apartments in LA aren’t cheap, but the price is worth it when compared to having to live monogamously. Mostly dating with occasional side pieces doesn’t work with only one bed, and monogamy would probably destroy the relationship. Being separate doesn’t mean she doesn’t know James’ room intimately. Elyse doesn’t need to turn the light on to tiptoe around the piles of jeans and the duffle bag of work out clothes until she’s right beside the bed, cool wooden frame pressing against her thighs. With a smile she presses the two litre bottle against the side of James’ neck. James wakes up trying to slap to cold away. 

“Morning, love.”

“Fuck you,” James groans. “Also, shouldn’t Bruce be recording this right now?”

“Not here yet. No one’s here yet.”

“I thought you were getting the guys over for nineties movie night? Afternoon. Whatever.”

“I tried,” Elyse says. “I called Lawrence first. He said under no circumstances is he watching the Scream trilogy again.” Technically he said for the somethingth time, but he used like twelve numbers and Elyse didn’t exactly memorise them, so ‘again’ will have to do.

“You told him it was a masterpiece that refreshed the genre?”

“Yep.” Lawrence had actually interrupted her mid-sentence to finish James’s quote, and then had informed Elyse that being forced to hear that phrase once more would qualify for torture so extreme that even Guantanamo Bay would be horrified.

“Okay. Peake then?”

“I think Bruce texted him and warned him off. The first time I tried it was busy, and the next two times I let it ring.”

“Bitches,” James says, shaking his head. He’s sitting up now, looking cute and rumpled in a wrinkly undershirt and bed-tousled hair. 

“That’s what I said!” Elyse exclaims. A million times a day James will say or do something that makes her certain fate brought them together. 

“Dupe them into coming over, say we’ll pick later, then we’ll put that shit on and lock the doors.”

Elyse sends out **come over for drinks and video games and maybe Netflix as a group vote** to the group chat. It doesn’t surprise her when all her friends start saying they’ll be over after they finish various projects, dishes and the car wash and grinding for a new character among others.

By three pm every member of the core group has made it over. Sure a few people with open invitations didn’t make it, but this is every member of the FunHaus group chat, and Elyse is happy as she slumps against the couch after drinking her fifth shot. The guys have been arguing about ordering in for going on twenty minutes now, and she throws in the occasional opinion, but she doesn’t really care who wins. As far as she’s concerned, any takeout is carbohydrates that counteract the amount of booze in her guts. She’ll be eating whatever it is cold, in leftovers form, hours from now when she decides she wants to be sober now and needs to soak up the liquor.

“Willems, tell him pizza is better than Thai,” Spoole demands, glaring at Bruce.

“I literally don’t care at all. Is it a shake? No? Then fuck off with it.” James has had an entirely vitamin enriched shake diet since Elyse has known him.

“You think any delivery guy had ever gotten sex in lieu of payment? Or is that just a porn thing?” 

It’s a powerful pondering Spoole’s just offered. It completely derails everyone from the war over what food to order. Including Elyse, who goes from vaguely imagining what it might be like to be Link stumbling around a city breaking pots and kicking ass to deeply imagining Princess Zelda giving Link a blowjob for rescues rendered.

“It has to be just porn. There’s no way you don’t pay that out of your own pocket, from tips.” Lawrence offers.

“Yeah but so what? Eleven ninety nine for a blowjob? You’d pay way more anywhere else.”

“Yeah but if it’s a bad BJ is it worth it?” Joel asks.

Lawrence makes a face. “What is a bad blowjob?”

“Ask Bruce,” James snarks.

“Hey! Fuck you. I give awesome blowjobs. Spoole would easily be the worst, he’s straight.”

“Straight but not narrow,” Spoole retorts.

“Meaning?”

“I’ve sucked on a girlfriend’s strap on.” 

“Who!” Lawrence demands. Elyse seconds the want of information, of detail. She’s only known Spoole a year but he’s ripped through the dating scene in that time, something like fifteen or twenty girls.

“Also, you can be straight and date a trans woman or someone enby, idiot.” It’s Peake’s first statement in the rapidfire exchange. He’s the least vocal of the group, only speaks up when he thinks he’s providing content others wouldn’t. Elyse doesn’t know anyone on the gender side of the queer spectrum, only a dozen or two people on the sexuality side, but she obviously agrees with the hypothetical hooking up with someone trans or fluid.

“Look, there’s only one way we know who gives the worst blowjob. We bet on it, and try it on the delivery guy.”

The thing is, Elyse says it as a _joke_. In a factual tone, with a poker face, yeah, but the ability to pull it off faux-seriously is half the joke. But all her friends are gross dirty minded perpetually horny men. Maybe the comment would have hit differently in a mocha drinking pencil skirt wearing power girl group, but she’s surrounded by overtly sexual dudes with a bottle of vodka downed between them.

The first sign that she’s been misunderstood is Lawrence saying “a complex odds system, or just a money pool?”

“We need to define the parameters of ‘worst’. If we’re going to be doing a group vote, we have to decide what our judgement criteria are,” Joel says, ever the most logical of them all.

“None of us are dating, but you and Elyse are. Are you two gonna be okay with this?” Spoole is sweetly asking James. 

They want to do this. At least three of them want to do it, and the others aren’t speaking up against it. Actually, as Elyse continues to watch her friends, they all fall -skydive, really- into this madness. James explains to Spoole for the fiftieth time what open relationship means. Bruce is suggesting they do a simultaneous bet for best, and he’s putting twenty bucks down on himself. Peake wants to know if they’ll need seven condoms, or if everyone is okay with sucking the same.

The pizzas rapidly become the least important part of it all. They don’t bicker about toppings, or sides, or even which franchise to order from, just call and order two larges with pepperoni and extra cheese. The girl taking the order says it’ll arrive in twenty minutes or less. Bruce starts laying out a coffee table’s worth of shot glasses, clearly with the intent to fill them all, and Elyse is already relishing how much it’ll burn to do a few in quick succession.

In no time at all James’ phone is vibrating with the link to the apartment building’s front doors. Elyse’s phone is doing the same, wherever she left it. He’s here, whoever he is, and it’s go time. This is a terrible idea, but Elyse is going to go for it. She joins the group migrating to the door, body loose and stumbling with the alcohol. She can feel the drunkenness more while standing, everything is warm and languid and funny. It feels good to make a dumb group decision like this while warm and happy.

“What if it’s a women delivery guy? Uh, person. Uh, deliverer.” 

“Still works. Everyone’s bi or pan except Spoole, and in that case the gender flows with him.”

“If it’s a delivery woman no way she accepts random sex. That is definitely a stupid boy thing.” Elyse feels qualified to say that, being the lone girl here. There’s not a chance in hell she’d hook up without even knowing somebody’s name.

Thankfully the concern becomes moot as the door is knocked on and Peake opens it, telling the person to come in. Everyone takes a few steps back to give the guy room to enter, but as soon as he does Elyse regrets the extra space. He’s fucking gorgeous. A bit overweight, just enough to give him a cute round face. Well groomed, too, tidy eyebrows and a nicely trimmed beard and moustache. He looks like the kind of guy who’d get snuggly after a few beers, and the idea of making out with him after a six pack makes Elyse want to suck his dick.

“So, how’s your night been?” He asks, meaningless chatter aimed to make the interaction a little less awkward. He doesn’t actually introduce himself, but he’s got a name tag proclaiming Adam. Elyse is sure he’s got a script in his head for how the next five minutes will go, based on the hundreds of other five minute customer chunks of his life. She’s excited to torpedo that script, blow it to fuckin’ smithereens with the energised camaraderie of her friends filling the room.

“We’re not gonna say we can’t afford to pay in cash but we can pay you in other ways because that seems tacky.”

“Does it though?” James whines, but no one is listening to James. No one gives a fuck what James is doing, everyone is focused on reading Adam and his reaction to this statement of Bruce’s, probably the weirdest proposition any of them have ever dropped with a sexy stranger. Even Elyse, three years of dating primed to care about his needs, to find his sensual desperation hot, can barely tear her eyes away from Adam. There’s nothing better than people reacting to you. It’s the kind of feeling that makes her want to be an actor or a stand up comedian.

“But we do want to involve you in a wager. We each give you a partial blowjob. At the end you rank us. The worst blower has to give you a two hundred percent tip.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Elyse doesn’t blame the pizza guy for doubting. He’s probably had to deal with drunken pranksters before. Elyse has never had a service job, but she’s aware that customers tend to suck.

Joel smirks. “Don’t think of it as prostitution, getting paid for sex. Think of it like _very_ pleased customers.”

“We’d sign a positive customer survey, if we could,” Spoole jokes.

Adam’s skepticism turns then, twists into the exact thing they need to get rolling. “If this isn’t some gay chicken group dare,” he pauses briefly as he shrugs, “go for it.”

Lawrence is the kind of man to commit to insanity. Elyse has this coworker, Gavin, who’s great at sparking a conversation, turning every stray thought passing through his head into a verbal hypothetical, but the instant someone wants to lay down money he’s joking it all off. Lawrence isn’t like that. If he says he’s going to do something stupid as a bet, he puts his money where his mouth is. Or in this case, his mouth where a stranger’s dick is. The pizza guy is soft when Lawrence pulls down his uniform pants, and for a terrible instant Elyse worries about how consensual this might be, or if a bunch of creepy customers have just overwhelmed him. Then Adam sighs with obvious rapture as he sinks deep into Lawrence’s warm wet mouth and Elyse blooms with relief.

“Anyone got a stopwatch app?” Adam says. “Tall Dark and Nerdy, you’ve got two minutes. You all do. They clock my difference between estimated delivery and actual. Fifteen minutes is pushing it.”

Lawrence takes the rule application as the starting pistol triggering, despite none of them being quick enough to have their phones out yet. He curls his right hand around the base of Adam’s cock and gives him the barest whisp of a handjob as he sucks Adam to hardness. It’s not a technique Elyse would have expected from him, Lawrence has a big enough mouth to really take some thick cock. But the combination of wet loose lips and drier tight grip must do it for Adam, because each time Lawrence pulls back and begins to go forward again, Adam is a little bit harder. 

It’s Peake’s phone that goes off with the two minute buzzer. Elyse knows Matt doesn’t care about winning or losing this bet, or the rules of it, so he must have set it for a different reason. Maybe he recognises that some of the others need a framework to pin this stupidity to later. Maybe it’s something else. Peake’s general inscrutability doesn’t go away in sexual situations, turns out. But it buzzes out in a two tone noise, and Peake redundantly calls out “time!”

There’s a brief lull after Lawrence rises to his feet and wipes the spittle from the corner of his mouth. It reminds Elyse of nothing more than the silent conversation they have when they’re over at Bruce’s with his VR set. Negotiation doesn’t always need to be verbal, not when you know your friends well enough. Spend enough time faux bickering with the people you love, and silence can be meaningful. The stare-off ends with Joel jogging the few steps to the bathroom, and coming back with a condom from the bowl on the cluttered sink counter.

“You’re putting a condom on now,” Joel informs Adam. “Unlike some people, I care if I get crabs. No offense.”

“I mean, _no_. I don’t have anything. But I’m a random dude off the street-”

“Off the local popular easy order franchise, actually,” James mutters.

“So you do what you need to do.”

It’s actually deeply hot go watch all her friends blow the pizza guy. Elyse already knew that fact about James. Nine times out of ten when practicing the open part of their own relationship they pass like two ships in the night. On special occasions though, she’s been voyeur, or exhibitionist, and it’s never not been a good time. After the first few she even stopped worrying that it _could_ be not a good time. She’s deeply looking forward to when he decides it’s his turn, knows he’s holding off because he likes to tease himself before he indulges. Elyse just never extended the exhilaration of voyeurism to Bruce, or Spoole. There’s no question about it though, as first Lawrence, then Joel, then Bruce demonstrate their best technique on Adam, Elyse is sweating with how turned on she is.

Bruce is the first to really reveal that the partial blowie is affecting him as much as Adam. When his time is called and he rises to his feet, he immediately unzips his jeans and starts palming his erection.

“Bruce!”

“What? Like I’m the first inappropriate thing this fine evening.”

“Side bet, Bruce comes before Adam?” Elyse offers to the room. She refuses for any sort of tension to disrupt the happy sexuality pulsating throughout the room. 

“No deal,” Lawrence answers. Before Elyse can worry if he’s regretting his life choices already -before Adam’s even left- Lawrence shows his cards. He shucks his jeans to mid thigh and joins Bruce in jerking off, still sporting a semi from his turn minutes ago. 

It’s a cascade from there. James is next to blow the deliveryman. He’s the first to palm himself over his jeans as he suck’s Adam’s cock, grinding the heel of his hand into the bulge of denim. He’s also the first to squat rather than kneel. It’s such a dumb showoffy gym rat thing to do it makes Elyse love him all the more. He shudders with need when he has to pull off, and immediately joins the line of Bruce, Lawrence and Joel in tugging down his jeans and grabbing himself. Even Spoole, supposed token straight in their shades of gay friend group, finds himself hot enough post time allowance to bring out his cock. 

By the time it’s her turn Elyse wants nothing more than to be jerking off with all the guys. Almost nothing more. There’s layers of spit on Adam’s cock and she adds her own in litres. Like that classic College Humour sketch, no one’s ever successfully made someone delight in dry chafing. It’s just not done. Being the sixth of seven she’s not entirely sure what she can offer that the pizza guy hasn’t received yet. Rather than try for avant garde, Elyse sticks with the classics; juicy and a hand cupping the balls. She makes eye contact with James as she jams her hand into her yoga pants, one-upping him by getting to touch her own skin. 

There’s a hitch in Peake’s voice when he calls her time. It’s good for the ego, even if it’s not all about her. She stands and joins the semi-circle of her favourite men in her life. Elyse rests her head lovingly on her boyfriend’s muscled shoulder even as she spreads the wetness around her pussy up to her clit while looking at Spoole and Lawrence. No one else is touching each other, but she can imagine Lawrence’s mouth on her, or Spoole making her come just massaging her breasts. 

Elyse doesn’t actually witness Peake making the pizza guy come. If she was a little more in her right mind, she knows she’d be worried about the potential awkwardness of Adam still being erect post shared blowjob, but she’s so fucking wet and so close to coming that she wants to take a bite out of James’ deltoid. So it’s only with an inner thought of _oh, that’s good, I guess_ that she hears the whimper of Adam filling the condom, fingers tightening in Matt’s already rumpled hair. 

Matt comes to stand with them, seven bodies making nearly a perfect circle. Elyse doesn’t look away from the group, doesn’t look at how the pizza guy is faring, tidying himself up and tucking himself back into his uniform. She orgasms watching her friends, watching them beating off in a half a dozen different ways, all because they’re stupid enough to share blowing a stranger. Elyse is the first to come by maybe twenty seconds, the first in a large chain reaction that ends with Spoole dropping his head into Matt’s neck in exhaustion, and Lawrence’s come on Bruce’s shirt.

Adam’s black slacks are in place by the time he draws attention to himself again. He looks as presentable as he did before getting accosted by rabid, horny customers. “My rankings are locked in. Here it is: all great in your own way. Don’t bother to pay, I’ll cover it. And hey... if you want to not pay for pizza again, I work every Tuesday, guaranteed.”

If it was up to Elyse alone, they’d definitely take Adam up on it. Nothing about this hasn’t been the perfect porn experience. Better even, in the porn version it’s not usually an orgy. It’s totally worth the inconvenience of hanging out on a Tuesday. But they’ll have to talk it out over drunk Mario Kart. If ever something has to be a group decision it’s this.

“Sounds great. Have a good night, drive safe,” Elyse instructs, falling back to the pleasant script she’d been so happy to disrupt.

“You too. Thanks.”

And so Adam leaves, taking his insulated black bags with him. Elyse considers staying in wet underwear with the rest of her friends for solidarity, but fuck that. That’s the prize she gets for hosting, being able to get comfortable. Flannel pajamas and no undies to let everything air out, it is. Elyse knows her boyfriend. By the time she’s out of her bedroom, he’ll have everyone back on the couch, settled, Xbox turned on. James’ll help ground everyone, make the night something that everyone isn’t afraid to reference and laugh at and possibly jerk it to later. He’s a people person like that. Elyse can’t imagine spending her life with anyone else, not when she’s got a guy who helps her craft her life to exactly what she wants it to be.


End file.
